


Let us count everything beautiful thing we can see

by misslucyjane



Series: Sinnerman [5]
Category: Constantine (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 50 reasons to have sex, Anal Sex, Bisexual John Constantine, Bisexual Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Bottom John Constantine, Clothing Porn, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, John Constantine Needs A Hug, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), canon mashup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26520247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslucyjane/pseuds/misslucyjane
Summary: Lucifer buys John a new suit. He has an ulterior motive.John is open to the idea. Lately, he's been open to most of Lucifer's ideas. This would worry him if he weren't having such a good time.
Relationships: John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Sinnerman [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894249
Comments: 47
Kudos: 126
Collections: 50 reasons to have sex





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by 50 Reasons to Have Sex: Prom Night. Since I didn't want to go AU to where they'd attend an actual prom, I did this instead.
> 
> Also, I have mentioned a long, plotty fic that I have planned for these two. This is not it.
> 
> Also also, I've spent all month tinkering with it, and now I'm posting it so I can _stop_.

Lux is deserted when John lets himself in through the service entrance. He shrugs at this. The lack of bartender has never stopped him before. He vaults himself over the bar, and then groans, regretting this decision immediately. He shakes it off and finds a clean glass, and opens a bottle of Guinness

Once the drink has settled, he comes around the bar and climbs the stairs to the elevator that goes directly to the penthouse. John leans against the back wall as the elevator bears him to the top floor, his eyes closed. He drinks without looking, and exhales slowly as the alcohol courses through his veins. 

Rough night. Being in Lux -- better still, being with Lucifer -- is just what he needs to recover. He won't even mind, much, if Lucifer has other company tonight. He'll sleep on the couch if he has to, just as long as he can breathe the same air as Lucifer, and be alone with him so they can talk. 

And eventually have sex, just the two of them, John admits when the elevator doors open. He really likes that bit.

*You're infatuated with the man,* he thinks wryly, though when he's being perfectly honest with himself he admits that he doesn't have a schoolboy crush on Lucifer anymore, not an angry kid's fascination with the Devil. The thing that brings John back to Los Angeles is so much more than infatuation, obsession, or lust.

John Constantine is rarely in the habit of being perfectly honest with anyone, let alone himself. 

In the penthouse, the lights are on behind the bar. There's a plate of food on the bar, with a piece of paper folded beside it with "John" written on the front in Lucifer's ornate handwriting.

He was expected, then. Interesting, since he didn't know he'd be in California six hours ago, and didn't call Lucifer to tell him he'd arrived.

John unfolds the paper. Lucifer never bothered to update his handwriting since he learned how back around the time of Charlemagne, so it takes John a moment of squinting to unravel the short message.

"John,  
Eat and come to bed. Missed you.  
L."

His supper consists of fresh croissants, peeled hard-cooked eggs, a whole and washed apple, and a little tub of Nutella. The Nutella makes him laugh out loud, or at least chuckle wryly -- he can think of a few things he'd rather do with it than spread it on apples. There's also a carafe of iced coffee, which John salutes with his Guinness. In the morning, maybe. 

John takes off his trench coat and drapes it over one of the bar stools, and takes a croissant to eat as he wanders around the penthouse and drinks his Guinness. Lucifer has acquired a few more art pieces while John has been away, current artists from the look of it: an abstract painting, a few small sculptures. Other than that, not much has changed. John hasn't been gone so long that Lucifer expressed his frustration by completely redecorating. 

Once he's finished the croissant and the Guinness, John puts the coffee and the rest of the food away for the morning and goes to the bedroom. Lucifer is sound asleep in the middle of his enormous bed, bloody gorgeous against the dark red sheets. John takes off his clothes and crawls under the duvet. He backs up to Lucifer's chest, and pulls Lucifer's arm over him.

He exhales slowly. That's better. 

"...John," Lucifer murmurs and tugs him closer. "You're finally here."

"Hullo." He kisses Lucifer's hand and presses it to his chest. "Seems you were expecting me at breakfast. Sorry I'm early."

Lucifer purrs with pleasure, and settles in against John's back, one long leg winding around John's hip as if he's afraid John will leap away. "I had no idea when to expect you." He's still sleepy enough that his words are slurred and lazy, rather than spoken with their usual crispness. John likes it. "I'm testing a theory. The last few times you've come to L.A., it's felt like a change in the weather. It's like something telling me, 'John's coming. Better get ready for him.' So when I felt that -- that frisson, I suppose is the best word, I decided to prepare."

"Is that so," John says, nonplussed.

Lucifer chuckles, warm and affectionate, and kisses John's head. "It's so. What brings you to me this time?"

"A poltergeist," John says. "It got a bit physical with me but it's nothing I couldn't handle," he adds when Lucifer makes a concerned sound and starts feeling his sides as if searching for injuries. "I'm fine, Luce. The kid's all right but the poltergeist got away."

"Oh, good!" Lucifer exclaims, and John looks at him over his shoulder so he can raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. "I mean, not good that the poltergeist got away, but yes good that you'll be here while you hunt for it."

"A few days, at least."

"Like I said, good. Your visits are always too short."

John plays with Lucifer's hand. Eventually Lucifer will figure out *why* John keeps his visits short, and John has no idea how Lucifer will react to that. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

"I'm looking forward to it. Did the poltergeist beat you up terribly? Throw you around?" His voice drops and his knuckles brush John's chest. "Do I need to be careful with your bruised bits?"

"No more than usual." Lucifer's chest rises and falls against his back. It's comforting and arousing at once. John molds himself against Lucifer's long solid body, his breath catching as Lucifer touches him -- strokes his throat, plays with his chest hair, rakes over his stomach.

"I'll be gentle." Lucifer's hand snakes between John's legs. "If you want me to be."

John arches in response. His entire body feels more relaxed and yet more alert than it had when he stepped into Lux. This is what Lucifer does to him -- he's not the rumpled occultist in need of a cigarette and a long nap, he's sexy, desirable, the adored lover of a gorgeous man. "Less talking, more touching."

Lucifer whispers, "We've got a lot to talk about later. I have plans for us tomorrow."

"Feels like you have plans right now." He pushes his arse to Lucifer's hips, shivering at the hard cock already hungry for him.

"I do." He kisses John's shoulder and his hand encircles John's cock. "I have plans for you now and plans for us after you've slept a bit, and I hope you'll enjoy them both."

John rocks between Lucifer's hand and his cock, pleasure coursing under his skin. "I will. Later." He grabs Lucifer by his hair and kisses him sloppily over his shoulder. "Fuck me, Lucifer."

"I love it when you ask nicely." He licks John's ear, gives it a nibble, then licks it again. He reaches over John to grab lube from a nightstand drawer, and then settles back with John cradled against his hips.

John fits himself against Lucifer's body. His skin sparks everywhere Lucifer touches him. He pushes his hand into Lucifer's hair and directs his head, silently asking Lucifer to kiss him on his neck, his face. 

Lucifer kisses him as asked, as he strokes John's body with his open palms. One leg slips between John's thighs to open him, and Lucifer slides into him, slow and easy, so good that John groans and sinks his fingers into Lucifer's hair.

Lucifer clutches him tighter, bites his shoulder, gives a slow deep thrust that makes John cry out. In only a moment John catches his rhythm, and their hips rock together.

John tucks his head against Lucifer's neck. He nips at Lucifer's throat, presses his nose against Lucifer's skin. Lucifer's scent is somewhere between "remote forest" and "snowy mountaintop" no matter what cologne he wears, and John loves it, he loves to breathe him in like the freshest of air. 

"Luce, Lucifer." He feels so good. Nothing better in the world than Lucifer's cock inside him. He can't say the words but he can say Lucifer's name, and so says it again, again. He can't stay still -- he writhes on Lucifer's cock, strokes Lucifer's arms, rubs his feet against Lucifer's legs. 

Lucifer responds with deeper thrusts, quiet moans, a whispered, "John, my John." His beautiful hands touch John so perfectly -- he knows what John likes and gives it to him freely, with his hands and his body and his mouth. John would call it lovingly if he --

He can't think. Doesn't want to. He feels too good for words, especially those words, and as Lucifer cries out and his fingers dig into John's hips, John comes like being swept away.


	2. Chapter 2

Far too soon, Lucifer presses a kiss to John's temple and gets out of bed. The sun is up, the sky is surprisingly blue, and John entertains the notion of getting up too until Lucifer pulls the sheets over him and murmurs, "Go back to sleep, Johnny. I have errands to run."

No argument from John. He sends an air kiss in Lucifer's direction, rolls over, and is asleep in a breath.

It's noon or thereabouts when John wakes again and figures it's for good this time. He's in no hurry to get out of bed, though. He presses his face against the pillow and inhales the scent of Lucifer, of them, that lingers on the Egyptian cotton. 

It's disappointing that Lucifer is still out instead of back in bed with him, but John supposes that means Lucifer will have to make it up to him later. 

John laughs out loud at the thought. Lucifer will make it up to him and then some, probably for days if John lets him. He wants to let him. It's not even about the sex, though the sex is phenomenal, but John wants all of what being with Lucifer means, his company, his music, his voice and his thoughts and the way he strokes John's hair when John dozes against his shoulder.

 _Bloody hell._ He keeps telling himself moving in with Lucifer will only go bad the way it did before -- but he keeps wanting to try again anyway.

John throws back the sheets and hunts down his cigarettes. A few inhales takes care of that craving, and he makes for the shower. There's dried come on his stomach and insistent morning wood to deal with, and he misses Lucifer. Lathery soap and a washcloth take care of the first two; the last thing will just have to wait. 

Wearing only a towel around his shoulders, John ambles to the bar where he'd put the food away the night before. He bites into the apple and has a swig of coffee straight from the carafe -- ah, there's another craving satisfied. Whoever made it knows he likes to taste the coffee in his coffee -- it's woodsy, and just a tiny bit sweet.

John sits at the piano and sets the apple on the music rack. He plays a few bars of nothing in particular, smiling at the sweet tone of the notes. Lucifer keeps his personal piano as well-tuned as the one downstairs. John would expect no less.

Next, to the bookshelf to see what Lucifer is reading. Lucifer reads _everything_ \-- popular novels, history books, political theory -- but rarely has books around. He donates them, or lends them out and never asks for them back. John, in contrast, sometimes thinks if he were to settle anywhere it would be a place with bookcases built into every room, and he'd fill them with magical texts and photo collections and everything in-between.

This time around, Lucifer is reading young adult urban fantasy, a history of Viking exploration, and pop psychology about adult survivors of abuse. Lucifer has been digging into this one: there are Post-It notes and highlighted pages John can see without actually opening the book.

Unsettled, John turns his back on the bookshelf and finishes his breakfast on the balcony where he can watch the city go by. He tosses the apple core into one of the planters -- you're welcome for the apple tree in twenty years, Luci -- and smokes a lazy cigarette as he sips the rest of the coffee, and wonders if he should put on some clothes and do his job.

There's a poltergeist out there that now has it in for him. He *should* be searching for it, reading the signs, protecting its potential victims. 

The elevator pings and John perks up. Decision made -- Lucifer's back, arms loaded with shopping bags. "John!" he calls. "I'm back! Where are you?"

"Out here," John answers, and Lucifer dumps the bags on a sofa and joins him on the balcony. He stands over John with his hands on his hips. 

"You're naked, Johnny!"

John spreads his arms and grins at him. "So I am, why aren't you?"

Lucifer beams and tugs on his tie. "I applaud your initiative. What have you been up to today?"

John gestures with his cigarette. "Enjoying myself. A long shower, a good wank, a bit of breakfast, a quiet smoke. I left the Nutella for you."

Lucifer shrugs off his jacket, waistcoat and shirt, toes off his shoes and socks, and strips off his trousers. He lets them all drop in a pile on the balcony floor and sprawls on the chaise with John, who kisses his mouth lightly and rests his head beside Lucifer's on the chaise's rise. "I thought you might like something sweet." He takes John's cigarette and has a drag.

"I ate the apple. That's sweet enough. Give that here."

Lucifer has another drag and then gives the cigarette back. "You'll get a proper supper tonight."

"Oh, yes," John murmurs. "Those mysterious _plans_ of yours."

"Exactly. My _plans._ " Lucifer reaches out to his suit jacket and snags something from an inner pocket -- a cream envelope, made of heavy stock and addressed in handwritten brown ink. He gives it to John, and lies back with the cigarette again.

John turns the envelope over a few times. It's addressed to Mr. Lucifer Morningstar, which tells him nothing. "What's this?"

"It's called an invitation. People send them when they want you to be somewhere on a certain date and date a certain time."

John has a drag on the cigarette, watching Lucifer impassively.

Lucifer sighs. "You're no fun anymore. That, my dear John, is an invitation to a little gala to honor small business owners of Los Angeles. I go every year. Dinner, ballroom dancing, all the champagne you could ask for. Usually I arrive alone and leave with someone friendly, but this year I want to go home with you." He wraps an arm around John's waist and studies his face, wearing a hopeful expression that John doesn't remember seeing him wear before.

"A gala, Luce..." John rubs his hand over his face. "Couldn't you take Maze? She'll look better in an evening gown."

"Normally I'd happily take that suggestion -- she does have some incredible gowns -- but my preparations did not include anything in her size." He strokes Jim's chest with his knuckles, and John exhales deeply, toes starting to curl. "They did include new clothes for the both of us."

John scoffs at that. "Neither of us need new clothes. You've got enough to wear a new suit every day for a year."

"I like buying clothes," Lucifer says comfortably, "particularly for special occasions. This is a special occasion." He strokes John's stomach and kisses his neck, and John closes his eyes with a moan. "I got you a suit and it is _beautiful._ I was overjoyed when I saw it. I can hardly wait to see it on you."

"I'm not really the ballroom type." He pushes Lucifer's hand lower. "This is more my speed."

"Nonsense. You're anything you put your mind to being." He gives a little kiss to John's ear and worries the lobe with his teeth. John whimpers. "I'd like it very much if you put your mind to being my date tonight."

"What if my new suit doesn't fit?"

"It will," Lucifer says with unshakeable confidence. "I know your body, John."

John shivers, and couldn't say if it's from Lucifer's words or Lucifer's touch. Yes, Lucifer does know his body -- Lucifer's lips and fingers are proving it more with every passing second. "Well enough to order a suit?" 

"And to buy you shoes." John can hear the smile in Lucifer's voice. "Want to try them on?"

"After," John breathes. "After you do whatever you're about to do."

"Hm..." Lucifer teases the soft skin of John's lower belly. "I don't know. You had a wank without me earlier. I'm deeply hurt."

"You weren't here." He winds an arm around Lucifer's neck. "I had to fend for myself somehow."

"Poor Johnny." He breathes in John's ear, "If you come to this party I'll do anything you ask of me after. We can rent a room at the hotel, stay the night, have amazing sex in a different bed..."

"We have amazing sex everywhere," John manages to say steadily, though his skin is goose-pimpled and his cock is visibly interested in pursuing this further. "And I like your bed."

"Johnny," Lucifer wheedles, "come _on._ Come with me tonight. We'll eat and drink and talk and dance, make fun of all the pretentious people, while we both look so gorgeous we're the envy of everyone."

"In a _suit._ If it's a dinner jacket I'm walking out of here."

"Alas, no, as delicious as you'd look in a dinner jacket, it's not a black tie event. I went a slightly less formal route for both of us." He kisses John's shoulder. "You're going to look amazing. _We'll_ look amazing. Lucifer Morningstar and John Constantine, out on the town."

John plays with Lucifer's hair. It sounds like fun, whether they spend the night mocking everyone or just enjoying themselves. Lucifer's company is always the best, no matter where they are. 

"Come here." He tugs on Lucifer's shoulder, and Lucifer crawls up his body so they're eye to eye. He takes hold of Lucifer's face and studies Lucifer's eyes, his expression -- the playful smile, the anticipatory way he licks his lips and studies John right back.

"What are you hoping to read, Johnny?" Lucifer whispers. "What do you think you're going to see?"

"I don't know," John says. "The answers to your riddle." 

"I'm no riddle," Lucifer says as he pulls John's hips to his. "I'm not a mystery for you to solve. You know me better than anyone."

"What does that say about me, that I know the Devil best?" John says, wrapping his arms around Lucifer's head. 

"That you are unique among humanity," Lucifer says with a kiss, "my John, the one and only John Constantine," with more kisses. "Say you'll go with me, Johnny. Go out with me tonight. To please me."

Yes, to please him. No matter how gruff an exterior John presents, he wants to please Lucifer. The rewards are so generous. Lucifer gives him so much, and asks for so little in return. He doesn't even want John's soul. He just wants this -- John's passion, John's affection, John's--

 _Body_ , John thinks. _He wants my body, and he can have it. He can have all he wants._

"Yes, Luce," John breathes, "yes, of course, there never was any question." He tugs on Lucifer's hips as Lucifer grins and kisses him joyfully. "I'll even wear the suit, no matter how ridiculous it makes me look."

"You won't look ridiculous," Lucifer promises as he parts John's legs with his knee, "you'll look, dare I say it, divine."

John's laugh is drowned in a gasp and Lucifer's corresponding moan.


	3. Chapter 3

The shoes fit. Bloody hell.

John turns this way and that in front of Lucifer's wardrobe mirror and has to admit, he looks a treat. The entire suit fits like a dream. 

He'd never wear this on his own. The cut, the color -- dear God, the _color_ \-- it's just so -- _red_ \--

Except it's not red-red. It's soft, subtly striped with cream, and makes his eyes look rich as chocolate diamonds, makes his skin glow. It's a color he would never dare to choose on his own -- but it is what he would choose if he had Lucifer's money and sense of style. 

And his tailor. John turns to the side -- his arse looks amazing in these trousers, which was probably Lucifer's intention. 

"John!" Lucifer shouts from the bedroom. "Are you done admiring yourself?"

John straightens his tie -- Lucifer said it was "burnt umber" but John knows orange when he see it -- and turns to the door of the walk-in closet. "Color's a bit naff."

Lucifer looks up from tying his shoes, and a slow grin spreads over his face. "It's burgundy, darling." He rises and comes to John, and spends a few minutes straightening John's tie and checking the cuffs. "I knew it would suit you the moment I saw it. It compliments your complexion."

"If you say so," John says. 

"I say so." He hangs his arm over John's shoulder, and they both look at their reflection. Lucifer has put his customary suit aside for leather trousers, a black silk T-shirt, and a black silk jacket with flowers in the weave. He looks the part, John thinks, he looks like temptation on legs. "Look at us," Lucifer says. "Every man, woman, and otherwise is going to want us tonight."

"We're not bringing anyone else home unless we both like them," John warns him.

"Of course." Lucifer kisses his cheek. "C'mon, Johnny Boy. Let's be on our way."

The sun is setting when Lucifer drives them out of Lux's parking garage. John tips back his head and lets the wind blow through his hair -- not even the styling products he borrowed from Lucifer can stand up to driving with the top down -- and watches the city zip by through his sunglasses. Palms trees, limousines, tourists, street performers, dog-walkers, couples carrying coffee cups and holding hands -- he feels benevolent towards them all, as if they're witnesses to something they'll never know they saw. 

Something, he thinks, like the Devil and his -- whatever -- going to a dinner party. He chuckles and reaches for Lucifer's hand, weaving their fingers together over the gear shift. 

He sits up, though, when they approach the hotel. There's a red carpet outside, and photographers behind a velvet rope, their flashbulbs popping. Some of the couples going through the line laugh and pause to pose, and some scurry through like they'd rather be anywhere than here.

"Paparazzi, Luce," John says. 

"Oh, good! We should be recorded for posterity." 

"Ever the showman," says John with a sigh, and puts his sunglasses back on as Lucifer brings the convertible to a stop in front of the photographers.

Lucifer gets out, posing so perfectly John suspects only he knows Lucifer's posing, and then comes around the car and opens John's door. Well. That sets an interesting precedent, John thinks, and puts his hand in Lucifer's to get out. He's not much of an actor, but for a few minutes he isn't John Constantine, rumpled occultist and general ne'er-do-well, but the mysterious companion of the glamorous Lucifer Morningstar. 

It's a part he can play, for a few minutes.

He looks out at the photographers without lowering his sunglasses, and takes his place at Lucifer's side with easy grace. Lucifer puts an arm around his waist as the photographers shout, "Lucifer! Mr. Morningstar! Who's your friend, Lucifer?"

Lucifer gets his most mischievous smile he possesses, and leans into John to whisper, "They want to know who you are, Johnny."

"We should probably show them." He puts his arms around Lucifer's neck and kisses him. The photographers roar with approval or disgust, it's hard to tell with all the noise, and Lucifer beams when they part.

"Good idea, John, darling."

With the photographers still shouting, "Lucifer! Lucifer!" John and Lucifer sweep inside the hotel. Lucifer starts laughing as soon as the hotel doors are closed behind them, and he hangs his arms over John's shoulders. 

"They're still calling your name." He holds onto Lucifer's arms.

"Always leave them wanting more," Lucifer says. He lifts his head and kisses John's mouth. "You were perfect. A body'd think you were born to this life."

"Nobody in their right mind would think that," John says, but he's pleased anyway. Lucifer's happy, and that's really all John wants out of this evening. "My younger self would spit on all of this."

"Your younger self would be right to spit on all of this." Lucifer straightens and adjusts John's suit jacket. "This isn't real life. It's just more fun."

"Fun, your true passion," John says as he slings his arm around Lucifer's waist, and they follow the signs and sounds of celebration to the hotel ballroom. 

Lucifer makes a non-committal hum in response, and eyes the poor girl giving out name tags like he'd never dream of desecrating his clothes with a _sticker._

"Here, let me," John says and takes the pen. He writes, "You know who I am," on one sticker, and "I'm with him," on the other.

"Sir," the girl says helplessly, "they're to help the other guests know your names."

"Everyone knows who I am," Lucifer says.

"And nobody needs to know who I am," says John. He slaps the "You know who I am" sticker on Lucifer's chest, and the other on his own. 

"This is silk," Lucifer says mournfully.

"Give it five minutes," John says, and leads him by the hand into the ballroom.

The other guests seem to have abandoned the name tags, too. Lucifer rips his off and crumples it up before dropping into the nearest planter, and John follows suit. There are servers with trays of canapés and champagne, and Lucifer grabs two glasses as the server walks past.

He gives one to John and has a sip of his own in a smooth motion. "Do you see anyone you know?" John murmurs to him.

"A few familiar faces," Lucifer replies, "but no one who I want to run into their arms. They'll come to me." He grins at John. "They'll come to us."

John touches Lucifer's back and drinks some champagne as he looks around. It's a decent enough setup -- flowers on every table, swathes of tulle attached to the ceiling with lights and balloons glinting through the fabric, a platform at the head of the room with an arch decorated with more flowers and the instrument of tonight's band. Glass doors open to a garden courtyard, where the trees are decorated with fairy lights. "Who runs this shindig?"

"Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, I think," Lucifer says. "But it hardly matters, does it? It's an excuse to drink free champagne."

"Hm," says John. He's having another sip when he notices movement from the corner of his eye. One of the panels of tulle overhead dips, as if someone were lying on the netting and pressing down. As soon as John notices it, it stops. 

John starts to drift in that general direction, when a woman breaks off the main cluster of guests with a cry of, "Lucifer!" and runs to him, arms open. 

"Marisol!" he cries in delight and embraces her. She's tiny compared to Lucifer, pretty and round and glowing. Pregnant, John realizes, and can't stop his smile. Always nice to see hope for the future. "John, come meet Marisol!"

"All right, lovely?" he says, and she laughs, still holding onto Lucifer. 

"I'm all right, handsome."

"Mrs. Marisol Fischer, I should say," Lucifer says. "Or is it Dr. Marisol Garcia-Fischer? I can't keep track of all your titles, my dear."

"Mrs. Fischer is fine for now," Marisol says, "I'm not practicing until this little one is walking on its own."

Lucifer steps back, looking shocked. "Oh! I didn't realize! You're pregnant!" He beams at John as if he'd had something to do with the creation of the child. "How lovely!"

"Yes, Lucifer," she says indulgently. "This is a baby bump." She pats her middle, and lets go of Lucifer as a young man joins her and slips an arm around her waist. "Sweetheart, this is my former boss, Lucifer Morningstar, and his--" She looks at John expectantly.

"Date," John says.

"John Constantine," Lucifer says. "My boyfriend."


	4. Chapter 4

From the courtyard, softly lit by fairy lights strung through the trees, Los Angeles is beautiful. The sky is painted purple and gold, the skyscrapers muted silver, the mountains lushly green in the distance.

The courtyard itself is meant to be an oasis: palm trees of various heights surround a tiled, burbling fountain, and low-lying desert flowers line the cobblestone paths. There are wrought-iron benches scattered throughout, shaded by the palms.

John chooses a bench several feet away from the doors to the ballroom and lights a cigarette. He exhales a plume of smoke as he leans back and closes his eyes.

_Boyfriend._

Lucifer never lies. He may leave out certain details, or exaggerate others, but he never lies. So clearly he believes this _thing_ they have involves commitment -- that it's a _relationship._

John can accept that they've made certain promises to each other, spoken and unspoken. For example, with rare exceptions, one will drop what they're doing when the other is around so they can devote themselves to each other. John will come to Lucifer's aid should he ever ask, and John knows he can rely on Lucifer should situations get truly dire.

But there's a difference between owing someone your life and living with them from day to day. The word "boyfriend" implies expectations of normality that John has never been able to fulfill. He's fine with being Lucifer's date, his friend, but _boyfriend_ \--

Times like this, he wishes he'd met Lucifer under different circumstances -- or rather, the way they'd met was just fine, but the rest of that night had bound them together in a way he still didn't know how to process, even after all this time. He can't forget Lucifer now. He can't ignore him, or pretend that Lucifer means nothing to him.

He wishes Lucifer had warned him.

The door from the ballroom opens before John is halfway through his cigarette, and Lucifer joins him on the seat wordlessly with two glasses of champagne. He holds out one to John, which John waves away. Lucifer shrugs and drinks from it himself.

"Don't tell me you're upset."

John smokes. "All right, I won't tell you."

"You just had a cigarette craving so bad that you'd walk out on a lady."

John shrugs. "Not the first time."

Lucifer makes an exasperated sound. "So you're sulking because I called you my boyfriend."

"I," says John steadily, "am not a _boyfriend._ "

"You," Lucifer says, "are certainly a boyfriend. You're _my_ boyfriend. You're even a good boyfriend when you try."

John gets his flask out of his jacket pocket and has a drink as Lucifer sighs loudly. "Tell them I'm your bit o' rough and they'll look less shocked."

"You're not that rough," Lucifer says. "You shaved." He touches John's smooth cheek, and John turns his face away.

"I told you this scene wasn't for me." He stands and drops his cigarette onto the path, and crushes it out with his heel.

Lucifer doesn't move, then shouts, "UGH!" and presses his fists to his face. "You _always_ do this. The _moment_ I try to push you a little further, you run away. Fine, leave, just don't come home at four in the morning drunk or beaten up and smelling of someone else like you always do, every time, Constantine, every time, you run away from happiness like it's a mad dog!"

"I don't want to be pushed!" John shouts.

"It's the only way you move!"

John scoffs at him and starts for the courtyard gates. How hard can it be to catch a cab, even in Los Angeles? He could get his things and leave the penthouse before Lucifer gets home from the party.

"Oh, yes," Lucifer shouts after him, "disappear for another six months! You'll come crawling back when you're desperate enough for another fuck!"

John whirls back to him, the rage mounting. "I can get a fuck anywhere, Morningstar!"

"Then do it!" Lucifer gets to his feet, his hands clenched. "Go find some other idiot willing to wait for you!"

John flips him the bird and strides towards the gate -- and then stops. He closes his eyes. There's an aching in his chest that only grows stronger the further he walks away from Lucifer, and he doesn't -- he doesn't --

He doesn't _want_ this.

He rests his hand on the latch of the gate, and then exhales and turns back. Lucifer is still watching him, hands still clenched, his expression lost like he can't believe John would leave him like this and he doesn't know how to process it.

John says, "Lucifer," and takes the few steps back to stand in front of him. "Luce. If I know you best," John says slowly, "then you know me best, too. And you know everyone I've cared about has died."

"Except me," Lucifer says.

"I know," John says. "I know. I don't think me being with you will put you in danger. What I mean is--" Bloody hell, he doesn't know what he means. He runs the collar of Lucifer's jacket through his fingers. "If they don't die, they leave me. A few weeks in and they realize what I really am, and they leave."

Lucifer softens a tiny bit. "I already know what you really are, John."

"Do you, though?" John says and gives him a humorless smile. "I saw your reading material."

" _The Hunger Games_ is a fascinating dystopia framed for younger readers," Lucifer says, mystified.

"I mean the other book. The one about adult survivors of child abuse. Books don't explain me, Luce, don't expect it of them."

Lucifer makes a growling, frustrated sort of sound, and then takes both of John's hands and holds them tight. "Has it occurred to you," he says, "that I have questions about my own past, not just yours?"

John blinks at him. "No, it hadn't."

"One of the many things you and I have in common is that we both hate our fathers. Granted, my father didn't call me 'killer' on a daily basis and put out his cigarettes on me," he pauses to kiss the inside of John's wrists, and John takes a deep breath, "but he did cast me into Hell, so I think we're both justified." He looks away a moment. "Not the point, I suppose. John. If you're afraid your -- _you-ness_ \-- is going to drive me away, it's not. It won't. It never will."

"You can't promise that."

"I just did, you numpty."

John stares him. Lucifer is utterly sincere, no teasing or mockery in the lines of his face. John clutches Lucifer's hands tighter and can't speak.

Lucifer sits on the bench again, drawing John to him. John lets Lucifer tug him down to sit beside him. "I keep telling you, John. I _like_ you. I want to be with you more often because I miss you. But I get that you need your space, so I'm trying not to interfere with your life anymore than necessary, and I wait for you to come to me. When you're here--" He shrugs helplessly. "I'm just happier."

"I am, too," John says softly. "I miss you, too. I missed you this morning so much that I couldn't think of anything do to but wait for you."

"Aw, Johnny," Lucifer murmurs and turns so he can bury his face in John's neck. John strokes his hair.

"Boyfriend, though."

"Is it too much? I could call you something else." He raises his head and starts to smile. "Boy toy? Pet? Sweetheart?"

"Fuck boy," John says, and Lucifer laughs. "I still like 'bit o' rough' best."

"You're not that rough," Lucifer insists. "Are we okay? Can I kiss you now?"

"Yes," John says, "yes, of course you can kiss me now," but he kisses Lucifer first. "I think we'll have to actually talk this over, Luce."

"Later." Lucifer kisses his forehead. "After the party, we'll go somewhere we can talk. For now, come back in, get to know my friends, relax a little. We can be serious later."

John holds Lucifer's face and runs his hand over Lucifer's cheek. "One serious thing." Lucifer arches his eyebrow, and John says, "I like you too."

Lucifer smiles in delight, and kisses him again.


	5. Chapter 5

The moment they steps back through the doors, ten people come to Lucifer to demand his attention. John waits a few minutes, then grabs another glass of champagne and makes his way to the dining tables, which are beginning to fill up with honorees.

John is prepared to be on his own until Lucifer extracts himself from his admirers, but to his surprise Marisol and her husband join him. "Can we sit with you?"

"Of course, luvs." He stands while her husband helps Marisol into her seat.

"I didn't get a chance to introduce you -- this is Jacob Fischer, my husband."

John nods. "All right, squire?"

"All right, Mr. Constantine." He says to Marisol, "I'll see if I can find you something other than champagne."

"Thank you, sweetheart." She watches him go, then turns to John. "Mr. Constantine, I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to offend you earlier. I was just surprised when Lucifer said you were his boyfriend -- in all the time I've known him, he's never been a one-person guy."

"Neither have I," John says. "You're all right, Mrs. Fischer. He took me by surprise, too."

"Oh, my. That sounds like a story. But you seem to have settled it now?"

"For now," John says, eyes on Lucifer as he works his way through his friends and acquaintances.

"How long have the two of you been together?" Marisol asks him, and John starts guilty. Lucifer preoccupied him so much that John forgot to pay attention to his companion. "You've hardly taken your eyes off him since you came back from the garden."

"Everyone's watching him," John points out.

"He's always enjoyed being the center of attention," Marisol says. "But if you've known him as long as I think you have, you already know that."

John watches Lucifer across the room -- laughing, drinking, talking and listening with equal enthusiasm. Lucifer is in his element here. The other guests bask in his attention like sunshine.

"Tell me how you met. I bet it's a great story."

"It's not that great." He drinks some champagne. "I was living in London at the time, the front man of a punk band. Mucous Membrane." He tosses a smile to her. "Lucifer attended one of our gigs in Soho. He liked the look of me, I liked the look of him, and --" He pauses, and elides the story drastically. Now's not the time to go into details about what happened that night. "What was meant to be a one-night stand ended up lasting ten months. That was seventeen years ago."

"You both must have been just kids."

"I was, anyway. Lucifer's ageless." He fidgets with his fork, longing for a cigarette. "We split up in the end. It was never meant to last."

"But clearly it was," Marisol says. "You're together again, older and wiser."

"Oh, luv, I'm just older and not much wiser. Lucifer is -- Lucifer."

Marisol looks at him, then at Lucifer. She softly laughs, and pats John's hand. "Funny, though, isn't it? What love makes us do, I mean."

"Yes," John says quietly. "Funny." He would much rather talk about something -- anything -- else, and says, "So, what's your story, luv?"

Jacob returns with a goblet of ice water for her, complete with a few slices of lemon. "Thank you," she murmurs when he gives it to her, and kisses his cheek. "I came to Los Angles after I graduated from college to figure out my life. I thought I might be an actress, but ended up dancing at Lux when it first opened. It was a pretty decent gig, really -- I mean, I always wore clothes, even if they were minuscule at times."

"That's where we met," Jacob says and has a sip of his own lemon water. "I thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

"And he didn't introduce himself with a line," says Marisol. "He just said, 'Hi, my name's Jacob, what's yours?' I thought he was just the sweetest."

Jacob smiles and kisses her nose, and she closes her eyes a moment, smiling too.

"Anyway," she says to John, "about that time Lucifer asked me what it is I truly desire -- you know, that thing he does -- and I told him, much to my surprise, that I wanted my Ph. D. in child psychology. I'd had a vague idea when I started dancing that I was saving up for graduate school, but I didn't know what I wanted to study, or at least I thought I didn't. Telling Lucifer my deepest desire made me realize what I really wanted.

"And then it couldn't have been a month later when I found out I'd been awarded a scholarship to UCLA to study psychology. Now here I am." She shrugs, smiling. "I don't know if Lucifer pulled strings or what, but I do know I didn't apply for that scholarship. I hadn't even heard of it until I got the letter."

"He may have had a finger or two in it," John says.

"I can't complain if he did intervene. I'm grateful to him, and to Lux. I feel like I owe him my happiness."

Jacob squeezes her shoulder and kisses her hair. "We both do, if that's the case."

"Here's to you, finding happiness at Lux," John says, raising his glass to them, and they both salute him with their waters in return. "If you don't mind me asking, do you know if the nipper there is a boy or a girl?"

They look at each other ruefully. "We had a scan," Jacob says. "The results were inconclusive."

"We'll find out the old-fashioned way," says Marisol.

John nods and sips, then says, "I know a little old wives' trick that you may be interested in. Would you mind lending me your necklace for a few minutes?"

"Uh," Marisol says, then, "Sure," decisively as she undoes the clasp. "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to discover the gender of your baby." He grins at her, and holds the necklace chain so the pendant swings freely from the end. "Sit back, Miss Marisol. This will just take a minute."

"All right," she says gamely, and leans back in her chair, one hand on the upper curve of her belly.

John holds the pendant over the belly. He closes his eyes and clears his mind, and then starts when Lucifer claps him on the shoulder.

"What pastime have you found, John?"

John grins up at him. "Discovering the gender of the Fischers' baby. Have a seat."

"Ooh, folk magic," Lucifer says, interested, and he pulls his chair closer to John's side.

"I'm starting to feel like a side show," Marisol remarks.

"Let me concentrate," John says grandly, and Lucifer hushes everyone who's started to gather around their table out of curiosity. They fall silent -- mostly -- and Jacob sits behind Marisol and puts his hand on her shoulder.

John ignores them and concentrates on the pendant. He holds his fingers away from the chain as much as possible so not to influence the motion of the pendant, and keeps his breathing slow and even.

The pendant begins to move. Lucifer moves closer and puts his hand on John's thigh, and John places his free hand on top of Lucifer's.

The pendant moves, slowly but recognizably, in a circular motion.

Marisol whispers, "What does that mean?"

"Ready?" John asks her. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Jacob and Marisol look at each other, and they both nod.

"You're having a girl," John says and catches the pendant in his palm before laying it on the table.

Marisol covers her mouth with a gasp of delight. "A girl! Sweetheart, we're having a girl."

"A girl," Jacob says and kisses Marisol. "Our own baby girl."

"Everyone's going to drown us in pink," Marisol says, laughing and crying at once.

John leans against Lucifer, and Lucifer wraps an arm around his waist and kisses his temple. "Pink is a color of protection," John tells the Fischers. "Gather it around her to keep her safe."

"We will, Mr. Constantine." She beams at him, and then her attention is taken by other guests wanting to give her hugs and congratulations.

Lucifer says softly, "Look at you, doing a kind deed for its own sake."

"I do, sometimes." He looks at the Fischers. "Like for a young couple expecting their first child. Why not, to make them happy?"

Lucifer whispers, "That's my John," and kisses his forehead. John rests his head against Lucifer's.

Movement catches his eye -- like before, it's the barest hint of movement, a balloon drifting across the ceiling of the ballroom. It could be caught in an eddy from the air conditioning, John knows -- or it could be something else. Hotels are notorious for their ghosts and hauntings.

"Luce," he murmurs and touches Lucifer's hand. "D'you see that?" He glances up meaningfully.

Lucifer looks up. "That's an interesting little dance."

"Does it feel like anything to you?"

"There's definitely something..." Lucifer muses. "But you know hotels, John."

"I know. Still. It's like it wants to get my attention."

Lucifer leans closer. "Do you think it's your poltergeist friend?"

"A possibility -- but it would be looking for a child to be its anchor, not hanging around a bunch of adults."

Lucifer nodded his head towards Marisol. "There is a child here."

"Bollocks," John says and they both abruptly get to their feet. "'Scuse us." He hurries toward the ballroom doors, but not before he hears Lucifer say, "We have an urgent situation that needs our immediate attention."


	6. Chapter 6

He joins John in the hallway near the unfortunate name-tag girl, who looks at them with despair. "You took your name tags off," she reprimands them.

"You know who I am," Lucifer says, and then draws closer, his gaze intensifying. "Don't you, Deborah? Would you like to help my friend and I? We need a place where we won't draw any attention."

"I--" She glances at John. "I'm not supposed to open any of the other rooms."

"Please, luv," John says. "I promise we're not looking for a place to have sex."

"Not at this moment, anyway," Lucifer remarks, and John glares at him.

The girl -- Deborah -- seems to be entranced by Lucifer's attention, and finally says, "All right," and leaves her table. "You can use one of the conference rooms. Try not to leave a mess."

She unlocks one of the doors lining the other side of the hallway, and Lucifer and John hurry inside, thanking her profusely. John flicks on the lights: it's a decent-sized room, one that should work well for their purposes. He and Lucifer get to work moving the chairs and table to the side of the room, to make enough room on the floor to work a little magic.

"Luce," John says once they've done that. "I don't have any of my supplies with me."

"What would work instead? Glitter? I think Deborah has glitter."

"That stuff is definitely of demonic origin. Salt would be best."

"Let's see if our friend Deborah has connections with the kitchen," says Lucifer and hurries out. John paces and flips his lighter on and off, longing for a cigarette, and looks up in anticipation when someone knocks on the door.

"Come in, Luce," he says, but it's Jacob Fischer who peeks through the gap.

"Are you two okay? Marisol was worried when you left so abruptly. I thought you might be, um -- but Marisol insisted--"

"No, we're not shagging," John says, "come in and shut the door. Are you a spiritual man?"

Jacob shuts the door behind him. "I wouldn't say that."

"What would you say to me telling you there's a poltergeist here that might be interested in your baby?"

Jacob's eyes widened. "I'd say what can we do to stop that?"

"Good man," John says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Three people make a spell stronger. Between you being the father and Lucifer's influence, I think I'll be powered up to get rid of this thing right quick."

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Deadly, son."

Lucifer returns then, bearing two boxes of salt. "Will this be enough? Hello, Jacob, did Johnny tell you what's going on?"

"He did, but it doesn't make any sense." He shakes his head. "Why would a poltergeist want my baby?"

"That's how they work," John says, taking one of the boxes, and he kisses Lucifer quickly for being so thorough. "They attach themselves to children to use their energy in order to power themselves. Ever notice how warm kids are? A kid's like a generator to the supernatural -- or a banquet table, depending on the entity."

"Supernatural," Jacob repeats. He shakes his head again, but doesn't move to stop John as he pours a circle of salt on the floor. "Tell me what to do."

"Get in the circle, both of you," John says as he gets in the circle himself. "Salt will protect us from the entity."

"Why salt?" says Jacob as he obeys him.

"Old white magic," says Lucifer. "It purifies and protects. John, I don't know if I can."

"You're still an angel," John says, "even if you're a fallen one." Still Lucifer hesitates, and John says, "Luce, I need you. Please."

"I guess I'll know for certain how fallen I am if the circle refuses me," Lucifer says, and takes a deep breath before stepping over the line of salt.

"Wait, what?" says Jacob, but neither John nor Lucifer need to answer him as the salt glows white, but does not repel Lucifer away.

"Look at that!" Lucifer exclaims. "Johnny!"

"Yes, yes, you're still an angel, just like I said, now let me work," John says and holds a handful of salt as he recites a summoning incantation.

"I am so confused," Jacob whispers, and Lucifer shushes him.

John ignores them both as he recites the old Latin words, putting all his concentration instead into summoning the entity away from the ballroom and into this room instead.

There's a rush of cold wind, enough to flutter John's tie, and he opens his eyes. He can see the poltergeist now -- formless like an elemental, but with eyes glowing yellow, and it forms hand-like claws from the sides of its body as it snatches at Jacob.

John throws the salt in his hand over the entity, and it shrieks, loud enough to make Lucifer and Jacob clap their hands over their ears.

John shouts, as the entity rushes around the room and the cold wind blows harder, "Evil thing from the sky! Hear my words. In the name of the Creator, you are hereby commanded to leave this place. By the blood of Man, be not and be gone! Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine!"

The poltergeist shrieks again, slamming its form against the ceiling, the floor, the walls.

"Say it with me now, Jacob!" John orders him. "Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine!"

Jacob repeats, "Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine! You leave my daughter alone!"

"Once more!" and again they recite the spell, as the poltergeist gibbers and cries. Lucifer grabs John's arm. He doesn't speak, but John can feel -- something -- surge into him, a jolt of power so strong it's like the top of his head has been taken off.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine!" he shouts again, and with a final handful of salt thrown over the poltergeist, the entity screams and bursts into sparks like a firework going off on Guy Fawkes Night.

The room is abruptly, eerily silent.

Jacob whispers, "Oh, my God," and sinks down to the floor as if his legs can't sustain him any longer.

"Older than that," says Lucifer and wraps his arms around John. "Johnny. Look at me, Constantine."

John looks at him. It snaps him out of that plane Lucifer had sent him to -- the room is ordinary, if a bit of mess, and all of the salt has disappeared as if dissolved by the banishment of the entity. He can't speak -- he holds Lucifer's face in one hand and presses their foreheads together.

"I don't understand any of this," says Jacob.

"Some things are best left a mystery," Lucifer tells him as he strokes John's hair. "I'd go see to your wife."

"Yes," Jacob says distantly, and gets to his feet. "Yes, of course." He starts to leave the room, then stops and turns around. "Are you -- I mean, I always thought the name was an affectation--"

"I am," Lucifer says simply.

"Wow. Um. Cool. I'll -- Marisol will worry." Jacob lets himself out.

Lucifer takes hold of John's face in both hands. "Are you still with me, Johnny?"

"I'm here," John says, "just wrung out."

"So wrung out we should leave? We can leave if you need to, John."

"Give us a minute. Is there a chair?"

"Here." Lucifer pulls over a chair for him, and John sinks into it. He leans over to hold his head in his hands as Lucifer crouches in front of him. "If you need to leave," he says soothingly, "of course we will. Just say the word."

"What, and waste this gorgeous suit?" He smiles at Lucifer wearily. Lucifer places his hand on the back of John's neck and kisses his forehead.

"We should go eat," Lucifer says. "That will help you. And what a story to tell during supper! We destroyed a poltergeist!"

"We should keep it to ourselves," John begins, but Lucifer is already bouncing up, too enthusiastic to stay still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banishing spell from Constantine the series, episode 1x01, "Non Est Asylum."


	7. Chapter 7

Roast beef and potatoes eaten and cleared away, awards given out, and the cake sliced, the band finally takes the stage. Jacob and Marisol go out to the dance floor at once, and dance close to "What A Wonderful World," Marisol's head resting on Jacob's shoulder.

John watches them dance, feeling at peace with the world himself. He still wants a cigarette but the craving isn't as insistent as he thought it would be, and he makes do with playing with Lucifer's fingers instead. It gives him something to do with his hands.

Lucifer lets him amuse himself for the length of one song, then turns to John. "John, my dear, I know you're not much for dancing, but I would love--"

John stands and holds out his hand to Lucifer.

"Oh," Lucifer says, pleased, and puts his hand in John's. They go onto the dance floor, and hesitate only a moment before Lucifer goes into John's arms.

John smiles to himself and rests his hand on the back of Lucifer's neck. He kisses Lucifer's cheek. "We should talk seriously now."

Lucifer exhales. "I thought it might be time." He lifts his head from John's shoulder. "We've always been available when we want each other. I've come to realize I want you for always. I thought you did, too."

"I," John begins, and he presses his cheek to Lucifer's a moment, trying to make it make sense. "I'm mortal, Luce. I'm not going to live forever. I'm going to die, probably gruesomely, probably soon. Hear me out," he adds when Lucifer starts to speak. "When I die, I'm going to Hell."

"No," Lucifer says, shaking his head. "Not according to me."

"Yes, according to the demons who have claim on my soul." Lucifer snorts and looks away. "You're not the ruler of Hell anymore, Luce. You're here." John takes a deep breath. He has to close his eyes to say this part. "And I know what my Hell is going to be. They'll tell me you're coming for me, and you never arrive."

Lucifer drops his head, still slowly dancing, his fingers intertwined with John's and his arm around John's waist. He says softly, "That's the closest you've ever come to saying you love me."

"Luce--"

"No, I know what you mean, John." He looks up at John, his gaze piercing. "I would never let you suffer there. I'd find you and I'd drag you out myself, and chuck you into the Silver City so fast that Uriel's head would spin right 'round and fall off from the shock."

"I don't belong in Heaven."

"You most certainly do, if I have anything to say about it. You're not evil, John. I know evil. No one knows it better than me. You're manipulative, crude, self-loathing, and arrogant, and you have done more to save the world, one life at a time, than everyone else in the room put together." He holds John's face. "You're not evil."

John swallows hard. "Maybe not, but I am very, very bad."

"Yes, fine, you're a very bad man. I still want you. I still--" He pauses, then smiles wryly. "I like you. I _love_ you." He pulls John closer to him by the waist. "You're not too bad to love, Johnny."

"Neither are you," John says quietly, meeting Lucifer's eyes, and the floor doesn't open up to swallow him. "But I'd rather you stay loving me from afar than get sick of me like everybody else and kick me out of your life."

Lucifer's gaze is dark and intense. "I'm not everybody else."

"Luce," John begins.

"You're the only being, immortal or mortal, who knows who I am and still looks at me without judgement and without fear."

"That's because I have your number, Morningstar," John mutters and watches their feet.

"And I have yours, Constantine," Lucifer murmurs, lips against John's hair. "We're perfect for each other. No one else will do."

John's throat feels tight. He clears it, hoping he doesn't sound too gruff when he says, "Is this what you really want? Living together, being together, more often than every few months?"

"Yes, John. It's what I want." He studies John's face, concerned. "Is it what you want?"

"I -- I don't know."

Lucifer's face drops and his hold on John loosens. "Oh. Well, that's -- it's your choice, of course--"

"Stop that." He pulls them close again. "I want to be with you for the rest of my days, whether it's one day or ten thousand. But I'm not ready to make a home with you. Let me get used to the idea that we love each other first."

"All right," Lucifer says quietly. "If you need time, you can have time. I'll be here. Waiting."

"I need time. I'll try very hard not to run away."

Lucifer huffs a dry laugh, and then looks at the band as a new song begins. "Oh, it's 'Wonderwall'."

"Could be worse," John replies. "Let's keep dancing."

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me 3 weeks to begin and a weekend to finish.
> 
> Writing is weird.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "In An Aeroplane Over the Sea" by Neutral Milk Hotel.
> 
> \----
> 
> Edited to add: I'm writing the long plotty fic for Nanowrimo! I'd love some prompts, either for sex or for other situations you'd like to see the boys in. Please leave a prompt in the comments!


End file.
